Poteryal
by illunaria
Summary: An undeniable pull exists between Alina Starkov and the Darkling. After fleeing the winter fete, she finds herself cold, alone, and undeniably lost. So after shoving Baghra's warnings to the back of her mind, she makes her way back to the Little Palace and is immediately whisked away on the hunt for Morozova's stag.
i.

 _Go now, girl. Be quick and take care._

Baghra's last words haunted Alina as she tried in vain to sleep in the hayloft among the animals of Balakirev, a little town almost directly west of Os Alta where she had fled from only the night before amidst the winter fete. She'd forgotten in her life of pleasures at the Little Palace how hard and unforgiving the floor was to sleep on. Even in her youth, she had much preferred the bed of a grassy meadow more than anything else. Still she found herself yearning for her plush mattress, her mystifyingly blue kefta, and stormcloud eyes.

She ran her hand over the silver bands of moonlight that had drifted through planks of rotting wood, her thoughts straying to a stolen kiss by the lake and to passionate embraces behind closed doors of the Grand Palace. A knife twisted deep inside her. Were those shared moments truly lies? Was she wise to believe Baghra, someone who could wield the shadows just as the Darkling could, someone who had constantly hit her with a cane?

Be quick, she had said, but Alina was barely a day away from Os Alta.

Take care, she had said, and Alina sent a glare at pack that contained hard cheese, bread, and dried meat. It was better than herring, though not by much. She shivered as harsh winter wind blew against the barn, rattling old planks of wood. The last time she had been in a barn was with the Darkling – underneath broken beams of roof that exposed the night sky, a fire burning in the earthen floor, but not as much as the _kvas_ had burned sliding down her throat. His words that night echoed back to her.

 _It was a mistake, an experiment born of his greed, maybe his evil._

 _I've spent my life searching for a way to make things right._

 _You're the first glimmer of hope I've had in a long time._

The Darkling had once said that he'd made mistakes before, just not often. Even if he truly was the Black Heretic, if he had truly opened the Shadow Fold, Alina could hear both the sorrow and hope in his smooth voice. Baghra said that he had had plenty of time to master lying, but why would she wait to tell Alina that then after months of living in the Little Palace? Perhaps Baghra was the one who feared the Fold's destruction.

She remembered the cries of hope at the winter fete after she displayed her power, as if all the people's prayers had been answered. If she truly had the power to rid the Fold forever, why run now?

With newfound determination coursing through her veins, Alina stood, grabbed her sack, and quickly stole out into the night, leaving behind a bag of coins and one less horse among the stables.

ii.

Horseback riding had not gotten any easier from her ride a few months prior. Although her body thrummed with power, Alina was constantly shifting in her saddle in discomfort. She had decided to stay off the Vy and kept to the side roads and narrow hunting trails exactly as she had on her first trip to the Little Palace with the Darkling. It was a longer trek, but she couldn't risk assassination again.

The sky was blanketed in night when Os Alta came into view. It would be an understatement if she said she was exhausted. She pondered on the possibility if she could sneak into the Little Palace and crawl into bed unnoticed. After that she could show up for breakfast all nonchalant as if she hadn't been missing for two days straight.

She also wondered if he had noticed her absence. If he had gone to her room the night of the winter fete and been turned away by the servant Baghra had posted at her door –

She shuddered, pitying whoever had to decline the Darkling.

The horse trotted through the massive gate and double walls of Os Alta, and she busied her mind by listening closely to the late-night partying of the market town. She was thankful for the brief distraction before she crossed the bridge into the grandeur life of plazas, parks, and grand houses belonging to the nobles. As she rode her stolen horse up the sloped street and as the golden gates emblazoned with the King's double eagle came into view, she blew out a frustrated breath.

Two men stood guard before the closed gates of the palace grounds. They eyed her suspiciously as she approached. What had she expected? The gates open with a warm welcome on the other side?

Alina plastered a smile to her face before she said, "Um. I'm Alina Starkov, the… Sun Summoner."

The two exchanged glances before the guard on the left spoke. "We were not informed of your departure."

"It was a brief excursion," Alina said as she extended one hand let out sparks of light into the air. It was her only real proof that she was Grisha. Lately when she looked into a mirror, she hardly recognized herself. No more spindly fingers, no more flat hair, and no more dark circles under her eyes.

Not another word was said as the guards opened the gates to let her through.

The palace grounds were eerily quiet, yet beautiful blanketed in fresh snow and moonlight. As she winded her way through the bare gardens toward the wooded tunnel, apprehension began to shift the air around her, suffocating in the dead silence.

She decided to dismount her horse here and lead it forward.

As she entered the tunnel, she let out a plume of air and dragged her feet through the darkness, knowing it was wishful thinking to believe she would easily be able to crawl into bed and forget Baghra's disturbing warnings.

She emerged from the tunnel and glanced at the Little Palace. It was just how she had left it – no havoc had been wrecked upon it by the anger of an ancient Darkling. Hope flared in her chest as she walked around the palace to the stables. After leaving the horse in an empty box stall, Alina turned on her heels and backtracked to one of the dark wooden doors of the palace.

Luck had to be on her side this late at night, for she found the corridors of the palace empty apart from the soft snoring of its residents. Alina smiled to herself as she climbed up the stairs.

Maybe her wishful thinking would come true.

Yet when she found her door bare of Baghra's servant, her hope wavered down to a morsel. No guard implied only one thing. The Darkling knew she had left. Had he come to the room after the winter fete had ended, only to shoo away the servant at her door and find her missing? Did he know it was Baghra that had set up her escape? It was hard to imagine anything slipped past the Darkling.

She swallowed her fear.

Her breath hitched as she pushed open the door to take in the sight before her. Her entire room had been stripped down – the coverlet and bedsheets stripped away, table empty of the paper she had set upon it a few days ago, and even the drawers of her dresser were open and void of the variety of clothing that had harbored there.

She sniffed as she padded her way into the room, not bothering to close the door behind her. After dropping her sack on the floor, Alina sat on the exposed mattress and drew her knees up to her chin to fold in on herself. As she buried her face in her arms, she let out a choked sob.

Maybe she shouldn't have come back if this was all that waited for her.

Time passed. She had no clue how long she stayed in that position, maybe only minutes or a few hours. The one thing she knew for certain was that the moon was still high in the night sky when she was snapped out of her stupor.

"Alina."

Every muscle in her body stiffened as the silky voice drifted through the open doorway. Yet she didn't move. She kept her head down, Baghra's words coming back in faint echoes.

 _He never intended to destroy it. The Fold is his creation._

 _He_ is _the Black Heretic._

 _He has served countless kings, faked countless deaths, bided his time, waiting for you._

But as Alina lifted her head and found the Darkling staring down at her with nothing short of concern in his cool gray eyes, those words melted away into nothingness. She hadn't heard him enter the room, hadn't heard him still in front of her – it was as if he carried the weight of a feather.

"I- I'm sorry," she croaked, voice hoarse from her tears. She watched as he pulled off one of his black gloves before extending his hand out to her.

She flinched away and tried to ignore the flash of unbridled anger that passed through his quartz eyes before it was quickly and quietly masked by hurt. Still trembling from the sobs that wracked her body, she leaned against his hand, allowing the familiar rush of surety to wash over her.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he cupped her cheek and rubbed circles on her tear-stained skin.

"Where did you go?" his words fell over her face, caressing her cheekbones with a hint of something sweet.

 _Lie to him_ , a voice inside her head urged. _Tell him you went for a walk and lost your way._

A small smile flitted across her lips. "Would you believe me if I told you I want for a midnight stroll and got lost for two days?"

"What did she tell you?" he asked, soft but serious as he ignored her pitiful attempt to lighten the mood. She briefly wondered how many jokes he had rolled his eyes at over the period of his long life. She wondered if a joke had ever gone too far.

Alina swallowed noisily and averted her eyes, but the hand on her cheek quickly slid over her jaw to grasp her chin as he forced her to look at him. "Alina, please," he whispered desperately, and her heart clenched at the sound of her name on his lips.

"It doesn't matter," she cried, fresh tears welling in her doe-like eyes. "I'm here, aren't I?"

His eyes roamed over her small frame to take in the commoner's clothes Baghra had given her. She flushed red in embarrassment, thankful for the darkness in the room. "And why did you return?"

She opened and closed her mouth several times before saying, "I… I love it here."

It was the farthest thing from a lie. For the first time in her life, she didn't feel weak or unwanted or second in anyone's life. She felt power, truly alive as a Grisha.

His eyes searched hers before he nodded slowly, apparently content with her answer. Then he tilted her head upwards and bent down to barely brush his lips against hers. Strands of black hair tickled her forehead, and now her tears began to roll down as she wondered just who exactly she was kissing, who held her heart in the palm of his hand.

The Darkling moved his lips over her fair skin and kissed away her tears. "No more crying, _solntse_." Sun. The name sent unwanted flutters to her heart as he straightened up and stared down at her. "I will send for servants immediately to restore this room. Until then…"

"I'll stay here," she said, training her eyes on the window. Unlike two nights ago at the winter fete, she was in no rush to jump into bed with the Darkling. Of course, maybe he was offering her another spare room and her mind was wandering on its own accord.

He said nothing as he turned away from her and walked to the door.

"Wait," she called out, turning her head and staring at his dark-clad back. He stopped and waited for her to speak. Alina drew in a breath and continued, "I want to destroy the Fold. I will."

The Darkling stood in the open doorway for a heavy moment before he replied, his voice casually floating into the room. "Even if your faith in me has wavered, I still ask you to trust me."

His words weighing heavily on her heart, she watched as he disappeared down the corridor in the dark of the night.

iii.

"What were you thinking?" Genya asked as soon as Alina had opened the door of her freshly-made room. When she only turned her eyes down in response, her friend took a closer look at the dark circles under her eyes and scoffed. "Let me freshen you up."

Alina considered protesting but decided against it. She was right, after all. Despite her resolution to catch up on much-needed sleep, it decided to evade her after her encounter with the Darkling. At least she found the strength to change into her kefta.

So she sat down and let Genya get to work.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"I saw Mal," Alina said, finally meeting the Tailor's eyes. No, she wouldn't tell her the real reason she had left because she was still unsure herself. Though something else had been bothering her. "After I left the party, he was just leaving the war room, and- and he said he hadn't gotten my letters." He had also said many other things, but Alina locked those hurtful words away.

Judging by the way Genya glanced to the side, her suspicions had been confirmed.

"Why?" Alina probed and caught the redhead's wrist as the she attempted to pull away.

"I told you, Alina," she replied in a hushed whisper. "Be careful of powerful men."

She slowly uncurled her fingers and released Genya's wrist. She warily stared out the window at the grounds, trying to distract the nerves that knotted her stomach. "The Darkling did this? Why?"

"Your friend, the tracker – he was holding you back, wasn't he? You couldn't summon because he was serving as a block to your powers. All the Darkling wanted was for you to be free."

"So all my communications with him had to be cut off? I'm not sure about you, but that doesn't sound like freedom," she sneered as her supposed friend closed her small trunk of glass jars filled with berries, leaves, and colored powders. As upset as Alina was, Genya's face remained stoic and reserved, which only served to further anger her.

"Would you like a breakfast tray?" she asked calmly.

Alina grit her teeth and shook her head. "No, I'll be down in a minute."

iv.

After shoveling breakfast down her throat and avoiding pointed stares from Maria and Nadia, Alina got to her feet and made a bee-line for Baghra's hut.

Only to be turned away.

"She isn't seeing anyone," a servant grunted once she demanded to be let in. Gritting her teeth together, her hands fisted at her sides, Alina spun on her heels and trudged back down the path. Of course Baghra would refuse to see her – she had not heeded her warnings and fled across the True Sea upon the Kerch trader _Verloren_.

The Darkling still wanted her trust, and she tried desperately to find a true reason not to give it to him. Everything he had ever done was to strengthen her. Without him, she would still be a mousy nobody, as well as a lousy mapmaker. Even if he had her letters to Mal disrupted, it was for her own good. Her chest clenched painfully as she recalled Mal's words that night.

 _He owns you._

He owns us all. She stopped in her tracks, staring out at the frozen lake. She had known Mal for as long as she could remember, but once she felt the tiniest semblance of happiness, he had chosen to turn his back on her. The betrayal felt like ice in her veins.

As she ran her thumb over the scar on her palm, she was snapped out of her stupor by the feeling of eyes boring into her back. She spun on her heels, automatically searching for the swish of a black kefta, but let out a relieved breath when she saw that it was only Ivan approaching her on the path from the Little Palace, his red kefta clashing harshly against the pure snow.

Unease ran down the length of her spine. She had no real reason to mistrust the Heartrender, but considering how close he was to the Darkling – the supposed Black Heretic – Alina couldn't help but wonder what he knew.

"What is it?" she called out to him, keeping strength in her voice.

Ivan grinned and thrust his thumb behind him. "You're needed in the war room, Starkov."

Her heart hammered in her chest, feeling whatever strength she had mustered up waver under his summon. "Why?"

Without answering, Ivan did an about-face and began walking back to the Little Palace, as if knowing Alina would follow without complaint. And rather begrudgingly, she did. She trailed after Ivan into the main hall where few people were finishing off their breakfast, others chatting loudly. All eyes were on her as she passed through the ebony doors.

A brief sensation of déjà vu washed over her as they entered the war room. The Darkling was seated at the far end of the long table, reading through a pile of papers before his eyes flitted up, glimmering like quartz in the lamplight.

Unlike the last time she was here, however, they weren't alone. Besides the _oprichnik_ that flanked the doorway, several Grisha were seated around the table. Four Corporalki including Ivan, three Etherealki of each order, and two Materialki – one of which was David.

The Darkling gestured to the empty seat at his right side. "Come sit, Alina."

She kept her eyes trained on her feet as she walked beside the others. After settling down in her seat, she directed her full attention on the map on the wall across from her. Her hands fisted in her lap, not quite sure what else to do with them.

Why was she here?

"As few of you may know," the Darkling started, his voice capturing everyone's attention in the room, even Alina's though she still kept her eyes trained on the map of Ravka. "A hunting party has been established, and those of you here have been chosen to accompany me."

Alina blinked and tore her eyes away from the map to him. That's right. He wanted to use Morozova's stag as an amplifier for her in order to destroy the Fold. Ease drifted onto her shoulders at the thought of her power over the light only growing stronger.

Mal had been able to spot the herd, and it wouldn't be long until he had managed to track it down. She did another glance around the room and tried to hide her disappointment once she didn't spot him.

The Darkling seemed to have read her action like an open book. "Trackers have already been dispatched into Tsibeya and we are to join them as soon as possible. The amplifier we search for will bring our own Sun Summoner here power beyond all imagination, and I have chosen each of you meticulously for the task to protect her until then – until the age of the Grisha thrives to its full extent."

Hopeful smiles and excited whispers were exchanged, Ivan looking rather smug while David endured an elbow from the Alkemi next to him. Alina turned her head to the left and caught the Darkling's stare, her breath catching in her throat when she saw something that looked disturbingly like hunger in their gray depths.

She blinked and it disappeared immediately, replaced again by a refined indifference as he surveyed the others. "We leave in one hour," he announced before dismissing the rest with a wave of his hand. Alina stood with the others, half expecting to be stopped by his modulated voice. Yet he just bent over his paperwork as she was ushered out by an insistent Ivan.

One hour.


End file.
